


Sweet Tooth

by JulietsEmoPhase



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Americans, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Halloween, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Public Sex, Smut, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:18:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5130740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietsEmoPhase/pseuds/JulietsEmoPhase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn't always have the best luck at Halloween, but maybe in the end it'll turn out okay? </p><p>American Muggle AU chronicling Harry and Draco's relationship over the years. Bit of smut and angst, but mostly feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Tooth

**Author's Note:**

> This was my entry to the Drarry Squad’s official ‘Dralloween’ festival over on Tumblr, and was won by my good friend Daphne/@accio-malfoy after she was the first to get all my trivia questions right.
> 
> It came with the following note:
> 
> “Dear Candy Champion - CONGRATULATIONS! You have utilised your stalking abilities like a pro, and I am now thrilled to share my gift with you. 
> 
> I’d just like to make a quick announcement about your prize before we get started. This is my second attempt at an entry. I got 10K words into the first, sent it to my brother/editor Merc, who took one look at it and given the timescale, declared it an un-salvageable mess. I was pretty disappointed, and not sure if I could come up with something new that would be any good, but mentioned to him something about maybe trying a ‘failed Halloween’ of some sort.
> 
> Within the hour Merc came back with a beat-by-beat story suggestion that is pretty much 80% of what you will read now. The man is a legend. He would like to send his love to all my “Tumbledorks” and hopes we have an excellent Dralloween!
> 
> So, this fic is an American Muggle AU, and sees Harry and Draco’s relationship grow over the years on certain Halloween nights. 14.7K words, and a little bit of smut! Also a bit of angst about coming out and a slightly unhealthy relationship, but mostly it is just pure fluff! Apologies if I get any Americanisms wrong, I tried my hardest :-P 
> 
> Right, all that’s left I guess is to say HAPPY DRALLOWEEN SQUADLINGS!!! I hope you have a brilliant day.
> 
> xJx”

 

Sweet Tooth

  **1986**

 

   “Harry, stop fidgeting,” his mom chided him gently.  “I don’t want to catch you with the scissors.”

   “Then you’ll really be a ghost!” Harry heard his dad say from somewhere else in the den, and Harry giggled underneath his sheet.  His mom had finished one of his eye holes and was just starting on the second, so he could sort of see them as she worked on completing his first real Halloween costume.  He’d had to take his glasses off though, so his vision was a little fuzzy. 

   “Is it nearly ready?” he asked, trying not to jiggle, opening and closing his hands instead in excitement.   His parents had said he could pick whatever he wanted to be to go trick-or-treating, and he’d picked a ghost coz he wanted to be scary.

   With a final snip, Harry could suddenly see with both eyes, and he jumped up and down.  “Yes,” cried his mom, laughing as she slipped his glasses back on his face.  “All done.”

   Harry started zooming around the room, his white sheet billowing out behind him.  _“WooOoo!”_ he moaned.  “Daddy look, I’m a ghost!”

   “Yes you are,” said his dad proudly, ruffling his hair under the sheet.  “And such a frightening one too!”

   The doorbell went, and Harry whirled around into the hall.  “It’s them it’s them!” he cried, seizing his plastic pumpkin bucket from window sill for all his candy.  “Can I open the door?”

   “Hold on a minute champ,” his dad said, catching up with him and grabbing the handle.

   Harry was being allowed to go trick-or-treating _by himself._   One of the older kids across the street had said she’d take some of the other neighbourhood kids around the block, and Harry’s parents had said he could _go._  

   “Hi Dora,” his dad said cheerfully upon opening the door.  “Wow, look at you!”

   Dora was a girl a few years older than Harry, and she sometimes came over to play when her mom and dad had dinner with Harry’s folks.  She was cool, but she looked even cooler today, and Harry stared at her in awe. 

   “Thanks Mr Potter,” she said, stroking her pink wig and shimmying her glittery wings.  “I’m a bad fairy.” 

   “I like it!” Harry told her, unabashed. 

   “Thanks Harry,” she said.  “Man, you make a scary ghost!”

   There were a few other kids already with Dora, and they seemed impressed that the older girl new his name.  Harry beamed with pride.  

   It was still kinda light outside, but the sun was starting to set as they ran back down to the end of the front yard.  Harry thought it would be better to wait until it was really dark, but only big kids were allowed to trick-or-treat then.  Maybe next year, he hoped as a large silver car pulled up to meet them on the sidewalk already bustling with other kids out getting their candy. 

   A beautiful lady got out, and Harry suddenly felt shy.  She was different to his mom, who liked wearing jeans and sweaters and sneakers, her red hair yanked into a messy pony and her nails always chipped.  This lady had shiny blonde hair all tied up in a pretty knot, and wore a matching grey skirt and jacket with big shoulders, and pumps with really high heels.  “Hey Aunt Sissy!” Dora said happily, gathering the half a dozen kids around her.  “Is Draco ready?”

   “He’s very excited,” the lady said tiredly but smiling.  “Thank you so much for this Dora, I hope you don’t mind but he brought a friend?”

   While she was opening the door, Harry looked around to see his mom and dad standing at the door to his house, and they waved when Harry turned to them.  He waved back, suddenly a little bit nervous.  He hoped he’d be okay by himself, but then he remembered he was a scary ghost and no one could hurt him.

   So he turned around once more, in time to see a boy and a girl hop from the car.  They both had pale skin, but the girl had black hair, like Harry, and the boy had blond just like his mom.  “I’ll be back in an hour,” the lady said, already buckling up her seatbelt.  “Thanks again.”

   “No problem,” Dora told her cheerfully with a wave. 

   “Hi,” said the boy, sticking out his hand to the nearest kid, a fire-fighter with red hair that Harry had seen at school.  “I’m Draco and this is Pansy.”  They were both dressed as vampires with capes and a line of fake blood dripping from their mouths. 

   “I’m Ron,” said the fire-fighter, shaking his hand, but the blond boy, Draco, frowned. 

   “Why are you a fire-fighter?” he asked as his mom drove away.  “Halloween is supposed to be _scary.”_

   “Halloween is anything you want it to be,” Dora said firmly as other large group ran past them and up to Harry’s house.  “Come on,” she said as Harry’s mom greeted them with a bowl full of jelly snakes.  “Let’s get going otherwise all the good stuff will be gone!”

   The kids cheered and they raced along the sidewalk to their first house, and Harry found himself bumping shoulders with the vampire called Draco.

   “I’m Harry,” he said as they reached the front door.  “I like your blood.”

   “Thanks,” said Draco, but he didn’t say he liked Harry’s costume back.  He was starting to feel hot under the sheet.  “Why are you wearing glasses?”

   “I always wear glasses,” Harry said, and it was true.  He could hardly see anything at all without them. 

   “Ghosts don’t wear glasses though.”

   Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that, but the door was opened by Harry’s neighbour, old Mrs Figg, and several cats made a bid for freedom by her feet.  _“Trick-or-treat!”_ Harry yelled along with the others, forgetting what Draco had said, and she beamed down at the gaggle. 

   “My goodness, don’t you all look wonderful!” she cried, hand on her chest.  Mrs Figg didn’t have any kids of her own, but she always did lots of holiday decorations, and her porch was covered in cobwebs and large plastic tombstones that said ‘R.I.P.’, which Harry knew meant _Rest In Peace._  An evil witch cackled from the tape player Harry could see in her hall, and he obediently held out his bucket to get his first candy. 

   When Mrs Figg babysat him, she always got the best chocolates with orange cream in the middle, and she had told him that was one of the things she gave kids at Halloween.  So when she held out her bowl with colourful foil-wrapped candies in he eagerly grabbed as many as he could.  Draco and Pansy, however, got there first.

   “My favourite!” Draco said, picking out the orange ones Harry wanted, and he looked down at his own handful in dismay as he realised he’d only managed to get the toffee ones, and the mint ones which he didn’t even like. 

   He looked up to see if he could try again, but Dora was already saying thank you and tugging them away so the next group could come up to the door.  “Did you all get something good?” she asked and was met with a chorus of yeses.  All except Harry, who couldn’t help but be disappointed at his lack of success.  Maybe he’d have better luck at the next house? 

   The fire-fighter, Ron, fell into step with him.  “You’re in my class, aren’t you?” he said, and Harry nodded.  “I recognise your glasses.”  They felt weird on Harry’s face on top of the sheet, and he nudged them up his nose. 

   “Ghosts don’t wear glasses though,” he said, wishing he’d picked something else now for his costume.

   “Yeah they do,” Ron said.  “If they did when they were alive.”

   Harry suddenly felt a lot better as they approached the second house.  “Oh yeah,” he said.  “Thanks.”

   “My brother Percy wears glasses,” Ron carried on, then pulled a face.  “But he doesn’t like Halloween, he says it’s for babies.”

   “Oh,” said Harry, disappointed.  He thought Halloween was for big kids.  Ron, though, seemed to agree.

   “Oh don’t mind him,” he said cheerfully, “I have other brothers who are cooler – look.”  He pointed at a pair of twins with the same red hair as him.  They were both dressed in monkey suits and were running around pretending to eat lice out of the other kids hair, chanting wild _“Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!”_ noises and making the other kids laugh, even Dora who was trying to be cross with them.  Harry giggled. 

   “So, do you want to be friends?” Ron asked, making Harry feel even better.

   “Sure!” he replied eagerly, and the two marched along the sidewalk together to the next house. 

   But his mood was soon dashed again when yet again, Draco and Pansy pushed forward and got all the best sweets once more.  In fact, Draco even took some right out of Harry’s hand at the third house, and Harry could feel himself starting to cry.

   By the fifth house he stopped trying to get to the front; Draco made sure he got everything he wanted before letting the others in, no matter how many times Dora told them they had to play nice, and his friend Pansy was just as bad.  They then gloated loudly about everything they’d got as they ran back down to the street, growling at each other and pulling vampire faces.  “Vampires are the best,” Draco told them several times.  “They’re the coolest out of all the monsters!”

   Ron didn’t seem to mind, but he had his brothers and they seemed happier messing about than getting any candy, but Harry had thought that was the whole point of Halloween?

   By the seventh house he hung back when Dora wasn’t looking and sat on the curb, pulling of his ghost sheet and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before putting his glasses back on.  _Stupid trick-or-treating,_ he thought as he sniffed.  Maybe Dora would just let him go home?

   “What’s wrong?”

   He looked up, and saw Draco the vampire standing over him. 

   “Nothing,” Harry hiccupped and crossed his arms, looking at the ground.  He didn’t want Draco to see him crying, but everyone else in their group was up at the next house, so no one could come to his rescue. 

   “Why don’t you have any candy?” Draco asked him as he looked into his discarded bucket, and Harry scuffed his sneaker on the road, not wanting to answer.  “Don’t you like it?”

   Harry hiccupped again and tried angrily to swallow it down, but it was no good.  The others would be back soon, and he didn’t want any of them to see.

   “You get all the good stuff,” he said thickly.  “You pushed me out the way.”  He got suddenly to his feet and turned back towards his house, leaving his sheet and his pumpkin bucket of the sidewalk.  “I’m going home.”

   “Hey,” Draco cried, and Harry turned to see he was looking upset too now. 

   Harry waited, but Draco looked embarrassed.  “Yeah?”

   “Um,” he said, twisting his foot back and forth.  “My dad said that’s what you’re supposed to do.  I, um.  I’m sorry.”

   Harry rubbed his eyes again under his glasses and sniffed.  “S’okay,” he said. 

   Draco looked at what Harry had left on the ground, before carefully picking the sheet up and holding it out for him.  “You need your costume,” he said.  Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to wear it anymore, but he stepped closer and took it anyway. 

   “Thanks,” he said, turning it over in his hands. 

   Next, Draco picked up Harry’s bucket, and looked at the difference between the content of the two.  “Do you want some of mine?” he said, handing Harry’s one over to him.

   Harry’s eyes widened.  “Really?”

   Draco nodded.  “You can have whatever you want – what are your favourites?”

   Not sure if it was a trick or not, Harry stepped closer again, inspecting the candy the other boy was offering.  “Um,” he said, and pointed to the orange chocolates.  “I like those the best.”

   Draco gave him every single one. 

 

**1993**

 

   “I love this song!” Ginny Weasley cried, and dragged Harry off his butt.  “Come dance, come dance!”

   Harry laughed as the theme from _Ghostbusters_ blared over the school gym hall, and they pushed their way into the throng of middle-graders.  The place was covered in paper bats and pumpkins the Home-Ec classes had been carving; it was pretty cheesy, but Harry didn’t really mind. 

   Only Ginny could get him to dance, all the other girls in his own grade were kinda intimidating.  Her brother Ron didn’t seem to think so though, judging by the way he was locking face with Lavender Brown.

   “Ew,” Harry said, and Ginny giggled as they started jumping around together. 

   “My brothers are all so gross,” she said as if this was a big confession, and it was Harry’s turn to laugh.  “Couldn’t he at least have picked someone cool – what is she even supposed to be?”

   Harry tilted his head.  “I think she’s a cat?” he said, but in truth Lavender was just wearing a dance unitard with a tail sewn on and triangular ears in her hair.  Ginny was dressed as Indiana Jones, which he thought was much better, and he was one of his favourite heroes, Luke Skywalker.  “Is Lavender his girlfriend?” he asked.

   Ginny snorted.  _“Duh,”_ she said.  “They’re kissing!  That makes her his girlfriend.”

   Harry wasn’t sure.  He and Ginny hung out a lot, and his dad had asked if she was his girlfriend.  Harry sort of thought she might be, but he’d never kissed anyone before, let alone her.  He thought maybe he should try it.

   But the idea made him nervous, so he didn’t say anything for a while. 

   “Do you wanna get some punch?” she asked after a couple more songs, and Harry nodded, thinking maybe he could ask her for a kiss away from the dance floor. 

   They walked through the crowd, past a bunch of boys from Harry’s class sitting on the bleachers.  In the middle was Draco Malfoy, in a really fancy looking Freddy Krueger outfit that Harry bet his mom had ordered specially.  Him and Draco were always in classes together, but they never really spoke.  He was too cool for Harry, who never knew what to say when all his friends were always around. 

   But today Draco gave him a nod and lifted up his mask.  “Potter,” he said with a wink in Ginny’s direction.

   “Malfoy,” Harry said hastily back, him and Ginny thankfully moving away to the drinks table where the swell of the crowd hid them.

   “Here you go,” Ginny said, handing him a glass of red fruit punch, and smiled as she took a sip. 

   Harry decided he was never going to get anywhere by being a wuss, so without saying anything he had a sneaky look to see if any teachers were watching, then took Ginny’s hand and ducked under the bleachers to give them some privacy.

   “What are you doing?” she giggled as Harry stood in front of her.  His hands were sweaty so he put his glass down on the wooden floorboards. 

   “Um,” he said.  “I thought, maybe…”  He took a deep breath.  “Can I kiss you?”

   Ginny blinked in shock, then smiled.  “Okay, sure,” she said happily, and put her glass down too.  Without a trace of shyness she planted her feet, closed her eyes and puckered her lips.  Oh wow.  He was really going to have to do this.

   Balling his fists, Harry leaned in and very carefully pressed his lips against hers.

   Was that it, was that what you were supposed to do?  It just seemed sort of…wet? 

   They stood there for a couple of moments, before Harry leaned back again, separating them with a pop. 

   “That was weird,” Ginny said.   That wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for, but the truth was, she was right. 

   “Yeah,” Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “Um, sorry.”

   Ginny didn’t seem that fazed.  “Do you want to try again?” she suggested, tilting her Indy hat back and smiling. 

   But he really didn’t, the whole thing seemed completely wrong.  “Um,” he said, getting embarrassed.  “I don’t know.”

   “How about we go dance instead?” Ginny said, and took his hand.  “We don’t have to tell anyone,” she added kindly.  For some reason, that made him feel better.

   “Okay,” he said relieved, and they re-emerged to join the throng once more. 

   But he was bothered for the whole rest of the evening, and was actually glad when his mom came to pick him up a couple of hours later.  “How was the dance honey?” she asked.

   “Fine,” was all he said back.

   When they got home, his dad came out of the kitchen, a bottle of beer in hand and a grin on his face.  “Hey buddy,” he said.  “How was the-”

   Harry didn’t let him finish though, he just ran up the stairs, already pulling his costume off before he even got inside his room.  What was wrong with him, why didn’t he want to kiss Ginny?  Why didn’t he want to kiss _anybody?_   All the girls he imagined made him feel a little bit sick – that wasn’t normal, was it?

   He threw his light sabre on the floor, causing it to make the _swooshing_ noise and light up green.  He dropped the rest of his costume to the floor and hurriedly put his pyjamas on, before flinging his glasses angrily to the side and diving under the duvet.  Didn’t he want to kiss girls, why did he feel like it made him shudder?  Ron was off kissing Lavender, and their other friend Neville had kissed a girl called Luna who was a bit weird but he seemed to be all excited about.  Harry wanted to be excited too, why hadn’t it worked?

   He didn’t realise his door had opened until he heard his mom’s voice, and he didn’t realise he was even crying until it was too late.

   “Hey sweetie, I made you some coco,” she said, pulling back the covers.  “I thought – oh _Harry!”_ she cried upon seeing his tear stained face.  “What on Earth, did something happen?”

   She deposited his mug on his bedside table and dropped onto his bed, wrapping him up in her arms like he was a little kid again.  But the tears came full force, and he didn’t mind as she rocked him back and forth whilst he sobbed. 

   “Baby, what’s wrong?” she said into his hair, which only made him sob harder.

   _“Me!”_ he finally managed to spit out.  “There’s something wrong with _me!”_ And in his heart of hearts, he knew there was, he knew there had been for a long time.  He wasn’t like the other boys on his soccer team, he’d been afraid of it for a while now, and sometimes, he found himself looking at them when they changed, butterflies in his gut.  “I’m not _normal,”_ he sobbed even harder. 

   “Of course you are,” his mom soothed, rubbing his back.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

   Harry cried for a little longer, tiring himself out.  It was a while before he could think of what to say.  “I kissed Ginny Weasley,” he said by way of an opener.

   His mom leaned back and looked at him, handing him a tissue to blow his nose.  “And?”

   He balled the used Kleenex up and threw it angrily to the floor.  “And I didn’t like it.”

   His mom raised her eyebrow and cupped his face.  “Then don’t do it again,” she said simply. 

   But she didn’t understand, and the ugly truth was starting to grow in Harry at an alarming rate.  How had he been so stupid, how had he not seen it before.  “No, Mom,” he said, trying he best to explain.  “I don’t think I want to kiss _any_ girls.”

   She dropped her hands to hold his shoulders, rubbing her thumbs in a circular motion through his t-shirt.  “You don’t have to kiss any girls,” she said softly, concern lining her face.  He was going to disgust her, she was going to be _so_ disappointed.

   The thought made him crumble again, and he dropped his head in his hands, his chest shaking silently.  His mom didn’t say anything though, just hugged him again and ran her fingers through his hair.  “I’m _wrong,”_ he insisted once more. 

   His mom sighed heavily.  “No you are _not wrong_ Harry Potter,” she said sternly.  “Maybe you’re just a little different, and that’s okay.”

   No it wasn’t, he didn’t want to be…Harry couldn’t even bear to think the word.  There was nothing worse than… _that._   That’s what you called the guys in Drama Club, or the guys who took a dive on the pitch and cried.  Harry didn’t want to be like that. 

   “I don’t want to be different,” he mumbled thickly from where she still had him hugged into her neck. 

   “Different isn’t so bad,” she said bracingly, pulling away to look at him.  “Freddie was different, wasn’t he?”

   Harry blinked and rubbed his eyes, looking up at the huge Queen poster he had hanging on his wall in between _The Empire Strikes Back_ and the one of Romário in his Barcelona kit.  He loved Queen, it was his favourite band, and he’d been particularly devastated by the lead singer’s death two years previous.  “Freddie was the best,” he said through the lump in his throat.  “He didn’t care what anyone thought.”

   His mom ruffled his hair.  “Yeah,” she said thoughtfully.  “And he didn’t care about being a little _different_ too, y’know?”

   Harry carried on staring up at the image of Freddie in his iconic yellow jacket at Wembley Stadium in London.  He had got the VHS of the show last Christmas and watched it until the tape had worn thin.  “I guess not,” he said after a while.

   His mom leaned back and picked up his mug, pressing the lukewarm coco into his hands.  “Listen,” she said, wiping his cheeks.  “You don’t have to worry about kissing anyone, okay.  You can think about that later, when you’re a bit older.  For now you can just concentrate on school and soccer and maybe the odd chore or two.”  He managed a shaky laugh, and she smiled at him, pleased.  “Nothing to be afraid of, okay?”  He nodded.

   She stood up to leave, but Harry called out to her before she got to the door, so she stopped, hand resting on the frame.  “Yeah hun?”

   He fiddled with his mug handle.  “Thanks,” he said, sniffing the last of his tears down.

   She smiled and tilted her head.  “Any time champ,” she said warmly.  “Love you.”

   “Love you too mom.”

 

**1997**

 

   Of all the ideas Harry had ever had, this was probably one of the worst.  He’d gone seventeen years without telling anyone but his closest friends and family he was gay, and yet with one decision literally everyone was almost certainly going to figure it out in about thirty seconds.

   “I was going for Clint Eastwood,” Harry mumbled to Ron and Ginny as they ascended the grand steps to Pansy Parkinson’s house and Ron pressed the doorbell.  They could hear the music already blaring from inside, and a mechanical skeleton waved cheerily at them from by the door. 

   The siblings snorted.  “Yeah,” said Ron.  “I think you ended up a bit more _YMCA,”_ he grinned. 

   “That or Parkinson’s going to think we’ve got her a stripper,” Ginny cackled.  Harry huffed and folded his arms.  He was clad in his favourite jeans with black leather chaps over the top, which weren’t too bad.  But he’d then opted for nothing more than a black leather waistcoat with a gold sheriff’s badge and a red neckerchief, showing off the abs he’d managed to build up over the last year.  He’d topped it off with a brown Stetson and toy gun holster slung around his hips, which in the face of imminent humiliation just seemed heavy and ridiculous. 

   He’d been going for sexy, but now feared he’d managed to cross the line into camp which was definitely going to give the game away to pretty much the entire student body.

   “Maybe I should change?” he said, hugging himself as Ron pressed the ringer again.

   “Whoa there cowboy,” Ginny cried in a Southern accent, batting his hands down from his body so he was on display again.  “And deprive us of a whole evening of fun?”

   Ron clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look.  “You had to come out at some point,” he said knowingly.  “Why not tonight?”

   “Shut up,” Harry insisted as the door finally opened.  Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil greeted them in the form of Baby and Scary Spice, and screamed hysterically at the sight of Ginny in her Union Jack dress. 

   _“Oh my God!”_ they screeched.  “Pans, come look!”  The boys managed to push their way inside as Pansy came up to them in a little black dress and heels, obviously Posh Spice. 

   The girls all flailed around, running off to find their Sporty and probably take a million photos.  “I need a beer,” Ron said, pushing past what looked to be half the Junior and Senior class to get to the kitchen. 

   “I need tequila,” Harry said, feeling increasingly self-conscious.  He should have worn a shirt he lamented internally as several people wolf-whistled.  “Looking good Potter!” a sexy-sailor Cho Chang called, and her Senior friends giggled around her.

   “I need a _lot_ of tequila.”

   Pansy Parkinson’s folks were famous for letting her have killer parties.  Her dad was a state governor, and they had a tonne of money, so not only was the place huge but they always gave them a good stash of booze and cash for pizza.  Harry had heard that they even got professional cleaners in afterwards, which was a good job because the joint was already looking a state.

   They found their friends Seamus and Dean loitering by the beer keg, and they were met with a cheer.  But Harry needed a hit of something stronger, so swiped the first opened tequila bottle he saw from the counter and began wondering though the party, gulping down a couple of mouthfuls as he went.  He started to buzz almost immediately. 

   The more he drank, the more relaxed he got, and he stopped caring that girls kept pawing at his toned chest, and guys kept asking where the rest of the Village People were.   The music was good and he spent the next hour or so in the living room dancing to Pansy’s substantial CD collection. 

   Blaise Zabini had introduced international drinking rules, but there were so many Harry found them hard to remember after a few swigs on his bottle, and consequently he kept getting caught holding his drink in his wrong hand, calling people by their first name, pointing, and saying the word ‘drink’.  There were plenty of people to help let him know when he’d broken the rules though, so it wasn’t long before a third of the tequila was already gone. 

   As _Barbie Girl_ came blaring over the speakers, he tipped over the edge, and the alcohol hit him like a train.  He hiccupped and swayed, blinking as the room slid in and out of focus.  “I need some air,” he announced to whoever was listening, and stumbled through the house and out into the back yard. 

   He stood for several moments staring at the night’s sky, inhaling and exhaling slowly, letting the air seep into his bloodstream and sober him up a little bit.  The evening wasn’t turning out as bad as he might have thought.

   “Hello Potter,” a voice drawled, and Harry froze where he stood.  _Be calm,_ he urged silently.  _Just play it cool._  

   He turned and tried not to lose his balance.  “Draco!” he said and licked his lips nervously.  “Hi!  Um, I was dancing, y’know, to the music and there were so many rules and-” he hiccupped, and looked down to realise he had the bottle back in his left hand.  “Whoops,” he giggled at the infraction, and took a voluntary gulp of liquor.  “And um, yeah dancing.  Needed fresh air and um-” He pointed upwards.  “Stars.”

   He honestly wasn’t sure if any of what he’d said had made sense, but he was too busy looking at Draco and trying to not to sway on the spot to really care. 

   Of course, the night Harry was dressed as a dorky, blatantly gay cowboy, his secret crush was decked out in a black suit cut so well Harry’s mouth watered at the mere sight of him.  “Nice hat,” Draco said with a smirk, coming closer to give the Stetson a friendly flick. 

   Harry laughed shyly and stepped back, taking the hat off.  “It’s just a joke,” he mumbled defensively.  He and Draco didn’t really talk much, on account of Harry blushing every time he tried.  But now, with the tequila thrumming through his body, he found his tongue had loosened.  “What about you?  You look nice.  I mean, cool, uh, cool suit.”

   Draco pulled out a toy gun that somehow looked far more convincing than Harry’s, and dropped his head down to look at Harry through blond lashes.  “The name’s Bond,” he said in a perfect British accent.  “James Bond.”

   Well, that shot straight to Harry’s crotch, and he felt his face go slack with pure lust.  “Oh, yeah,” he said shakily.  “Good one.”  He dropped his hat on a nearby low running wall and rubbed his eyes.  He was still getting used to contact lenses, and apparently getting drunk was making his eyes dry. 

   “Can I?” Draco asked in his normal voice once more, pointing at the liquor bottle, and Harry handed it over readily.  He felt like Draco needed to catch up. 

   Apparently so did Draco. 

   Which was probably how they ended up in a shadowy corner of the Parkinson’s lawn, stretched out, passing the bottle between them and laughing uncontrollably at something inane Harry had said.

   “Okay,” said Draco after a time though, pushing Harry’s shoulder and grabbing the tequila back.  “Okay, okay, though – seriously, I have a question.”

   He licked his lips and regarded Harry, who shifted in his position resting back on his elbows.  “Alright,” Harry said, after a breath of cool air, trying not to slur.  He wasn’t so drunk he didn’t remember to be cautious. 

   Draco pulled at some blades of grass, considering.  “You don’t have to answer,” he said, and Harry barked a laugh out.

   “Just ask already!” he said playfully. 

   Draco glanced back towards the party.  No one had bothered them the entire time they’d been out there.  In fact, Harry was pretty sure no one knew they were hidden away behind the fountain and under the grand oak tree, and a thrill shot down his spine.  

   “Are you gay?”

   Harry couldn’t help but flinch, but tried to recover as quickly as possible, suddenly feeling a lot more sober.  “I told you,” he said, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner and waving his hand up and down his body.  “It’s _(hiccup)_ it’s just a joke.”

   Draco though, just kept staring, before taking another swig of booze.  “It would be okay if you were,” he said quietly.

   Harry just shrugged.  “I’m not,” he said.  

   “Okay,” said Draco.  “But…I won’t tell anyone, I swear.  I just felt…maybe you were, and was wondering if you could help me with something?”

   That caught Harry’s attention.

   He reached for the bottle, his fingers grazing against Draco’s as he took it, but the other boy didn’t pull away.  “Help with what?” he asked. 

   “How did you know?” Draco asked softly, his eyes dropping down to the ground.  “That you were gay?”

   Harry’s heart was beating faster, and his mouth had gone dry despite all the drink.  Did he come clean, and see where this went?  Or keep his secret safe a little longer.

   Eventually, the booze and his increasingly interested dick made the choice for him.  “Nobody else knows,” he said firmly and quickly, before he could change his mind. “Only my best friends.  So if it gets out, I’ll know it was you.”

   “I won’t tell anyone,” Draco promised, hopeful grey eyes raising to meet Harry’s.  “How did you realise, when?”

   Harry was the one tugging at the grass now.  “A few years ago,” he admitted.  There was no going back now.  “I’d had an idea, but,” he sighed.  “Then I kissed a girl and it just wasn’t right.”

   Draco was nodding, lost in contemplation.  “So,” he said, picking his words carefully from the looks of it through Harry’s drunken haze.  “Did you then kiss a boy…and that _was_ right?”

   Harry still wasn’t convinced he wasn’t getting himself in a whole mess of trouble, but it felt good to talk about this with someone, and there was something about the way Draco’s eyes kept lingering over him that was making his skin tingle.  “Pretty much.”

   “You’ve kissed a boy?” Draco checked.

   Harry smirked.  “A couple, actually.”  He’d done a little bit more than kissing with the last guy he’d hooked up with, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Draco just yet. 

   “Who?”

   He really was interested, Harry thought.  “No one you know,” he answered truthfully. 

   They sat half lying on the grass, looking at each other for a few minutes.  It should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t.  “You’ve kissed girls,” Harry said eventually.  He knew, he’d seen it with his own eyes, and it had felt like a stab to the heart each time. 

   “A couple,” said Draco with a shrug.

   “So…how did it feel?” he asked, hoping this was going where he thought it was. 

   Draco swallowed and fiddled with the bottle top between his long fingers.  “I’m not sure,” he said, practically trembling.  “I was hoping…maybe…I could compare it.”

   “With what?” Harry breathed.

   Draco looked up.  “With you?”

   Harry thought maybe he’d lost his mind.  Draco Malfoy was asking him to kiss him. 

   Before his brain could kick in and do something stupid, he moved closer to the other boy, and brushed his hair away from his face.  He was so beautiful, it had been a constant source of heartache for Harry for the last three years or so, but now it was a source of elation.  He was going to kiss Draco.

   He was _so_ glad he’d had a few other boys to practice on first, he did not want to fuck this up.  “Are you sure?” he said as Draco watched him warily. 

   He nodded, just a fraction of a move.  “Yes,” he said.

   So Harry closed the gap between them, touching his lips gently to Draco’s. 

   He was warm; warm skin, warm breath, and Harry wasted no time in leaning in further, slowly moving his mouth, exploring, daring to slip his tongue in just a little, not so much he would scare Draco off.  But he needn’t have worried.  Draco pushed himself further against Harry, and he almost jumped when a hand slipped under his vest, tracing along the bare skin of his chest.

   Harry moaned, letting his tongue delve past Draco’s lips, tugging at his own one to come play with him.  Draco panted and made a sort of groaning noise, encouraging Harry on.

   Harry shifted, letting Draco drop down more onto his back and allowing Harry to crowd him with more of his body, pressing their thighs together as he ran his hand along Draco’s suited form.  Harry wasn’t sure if this was ever going to happened again, and he got it in his head that Draco really needed convincing that he liked this better than with girls, so he let his hand drift downwards to skim over his hip, caressing the top of his thigh, and then finally, slipping determinedly between his legs.

   Draco gasped and arched his back, but Harry quickly reclaimed his lips, loving how he pushed his crotch into his palm, letting Harry feel how he was thickening through his trousers.  “Yes?” Harry wanted to check.

   “Yes,” Draco said without hesitation.

   Again immensely relieved he’d already practiced this on somebody else, Harry managed to unzip Draco’s fly and fish his hand in, finding his hard length beneath his briefs, wrapping his fingers around it and causing Draco to snatch a sharp breath through his teeth.  He lay with his eyes closed, murmuring to himself as Harry jerked him off, his hands gripped tight onto Harry’s back.  Harry just watched him, drinking in the sight of him coming undone at his touch, still unable to believe this was really happening. 

   Even if it never happened again, he would always have this glorious sight that he could keep forever, it was all his, completely private. 

   But Draco surprised him, just as he was starting to peek.  Harry’s own cock was straining against his jeans, and he jumped as Draco brought his hand up to rub him through the denim.  Harry was so turned on it was all he needed, the thought of Draco’s hand massaging him as he masturbated the other boy into delirium, and soon he was gnashing his teeth just as much as Draco.

   They came, probably too noisily considering they were in someone’s back yard, and Harry buckled, falling against Draco as they panted hard.

   “Wow,” Draco said, blinking at the stars much in the same manner he’d found Harry an hour before. 

   “Good comparison?” Harry asked tentatively.  His head was throbbing from the exertion and the booze, but lights were dancing in front of his eyes too after his climax. 

   Draco laughed.  “Yeah,” he said, nodding before looking over at Harry and tucking himself back in his pants.  “Pretty good.”

   Harry realised as his euphoria washed off that he’d jizzed quite spectacularly in his own pants, and groaned.  “Oh fuck,” he laughed, looking down at the damp patch.  “I think people might notice that.”

   Draco grinned.  “Oops,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.  “Hang on, I have an idea.”  He fetched the tequila bottle from where they’d discarded it earlier, and shook it suggestively at Harry.   “I think you had a little spill?”

   Harry laughed, what was the lesser evil?  People thinking he’d tipped booze all down his jeans, or knowing that he’d come all over himself.  “Go on then,” he said, and Draco tipped half of what was left down Harry’s crotch.  _“Urgh!”_ he cried at the unpleasant sensation, and laughed some more as Draco wiggled his eyebrows and took a slug. 

   “We might as well finish it?” he said, offering the last mouthful to Harry.  “To…experimenting,” he said with a devilish glint in his eye. 

   Even through his drunken state, Harry realised that was all this had been, just a little fling.  Draco was curious, and he wanted to try a few things out with someone more experienced.  But right then Harry couldn’t be sad about that – it could have never happened at all.  Most people never got anywhere near their high school crush, and he and Draco had just got all the way to second base. 

   So he took the last little bit of drink, and sloshed it in a salute.  “To our little secret,” he said, downing the final few drops. 

 

**2001**

 

   “Remind me,” Cormac said patiently.  “Why we had to come all the way to your home town for Halloween, where there were several perfectly good frats offering parties on campus?”

   Harry sighed and shifted on his feet in the queue outside the club, throwing Mac what he hoped was a placating smile.  “You know why,” he said quietly.  “It’s a big holiday for us, and this is for charity, it’s important.”

   Mac rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.  He could have been trying to keep warm in the slightly chilly air, or he could have been fed up, Harry wasn’t sure and it made him anxious.  “Don’t try and guilt trip me, I know it’s a good cause, we could have just wired some money is all I’m saying.”

   Harry was trying not to be upset that Mac wasn’t as enthusiastic as he was.  He wasn’t really into fancy dress to be fair, but Harry’s town had made a big effort on short notice to get such a large fundraiser together.

   “New York needs heroes right now,” he said, offering another smile.  “We get to be real-life heroes for a night.”

   He grinned as he swept his hand down between their lycra clad bodies.  The theme for the night was just that, heroes, and despite protesting he didn’t really want to make a fuss, Cormac had done an about turn and sprung for a proper Superman getup, complete with cape and little trunks that didn’t hide much. 

   Mac rolled his eyes and pulled Harry into a hug.  “You’re my hero,” he said, planting a kiss on his forehead.  “I just – you know – these little towns.  They always make me feel like people are looking at us.”

   “Then quit with the PDA,” Harry said affectionately, pushing him off.  He wasn’t ashamed to be with his boyfriend, far from it, he just didn’t like rubbing it in people’s faces.  It wasn’t a gay thing, he didn’t like when straight couples were all over each other either.  There was a time and a place for that. 

   They moved forward in the queue.  “Besides,” Harry said as Mac ignored the rebuttal and took his hand instead.  “I thought it was about time I brought you home to meet everyone.  Dinner was good with my parents, yeah?”

   Mac smiled warmly at him and rubbed his thumb across Harry’s gloved hand.  He hadn’t put his mask on yet, but he had been equally as bold on his costume choice and gone for Spiderman.  He had the build for it, so he figured why not, especially with the new film coming out next year that he was slightly fanboying over. 

   “Dinner was great,” Mac assured him.  “And it means we can go see my folks for Thanksgiving, so it all worked out fine.  I just don’t like not knowing anyone when you know _everyone._   Small towns are creepy like that.”

   “Halloween’s supposed to be creepy,” Harry countered, pleased to get a smirk out of Mac.  “Anyway, you look hot, everyone’s gonna love you.”

   “I do manage to make this look good,” he agreed, flexing his muscles jokingly.  “This is what a _real_ football player looks like,” he added with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.  He liked teasing that he, a running back, was the only genuine football player of the two of them, unlike Harry with his more lithe form, suited to his beloved soccer. 

   Harry found it best to deflect with humour though, as Mac was only teasing.  “Oh, so I’m imaginary am I?” he goaded. 

   “Yes,” Mac agreed.  “I’ve made you up.  Are we _ever_ getting inside?”

   “We’re nearly there,” Harry assured as two more people were allowed to enter the party. 

   The town council had organised the night at the only decent bar around, _The Leaky Cauldron,_ one Harry had only managed to sneak into a couple of times with fake i.d.  Now that he was actually twenty one though there was no need, and he was looking forward to seeing his friends from high school without having to creep around. 

   “Okay, fine,” Mac said fondly, pulling him into a hug.  “Look, this is me, being a good boyfriend and having a good time.  I swear.”

   The woman on the door gave them the eye, and Harry instantly felt self-conscious.  He’d not had much in the way of trouble when he’d come out in Senior Year, but he didn’t want to antagonise anyone just because he’d gotten used to the slightly more liberal East Coast. 

   “Tickets please?” the woman, dressed as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, asked.  He and Mac handed them dutifully over, and finally headed inside.

   Half the town was here Harry figured, eyes roaming over the two-story club as his ears got used to the pounding music.  “Do you want a drink?” he yelled at Cormac, and he eagerly nodded back, so they started pushing their way to the bar.

   Harry saw several people he knew along the way, but mostly just waved at them as he and Mac continued on their quest to catch up and get some alcohol in their system.  But as they approached the bar Harry was happy to spot a familiar red head, slightly taller than most.  “Ron!” he bellowed and waved, and was rewarded with his best friend turning to spot him and bursting into a wide grin. 

   “Harry, dude,” he said, yanking him into a fierce hug and slapping his back a few times.  “Good to see you, how you been?”  They swapped a few pleasantries, having only talked over email for the last few months as Harry had had to stay at his job over the summer back east.  “Hey, you remember that girl I told you about?”

   Ron didn’t wait for a reply, but turned and helped guide a girl from the throng over to his side.  She had light brown skin and a great deal of dark curly hair that she had tamed either side of a centre parting, in complicated plats that were secured at the nape of her neck.  She was wearing a heavy period dress that Harry thought might have been Victorian, and looked sweltering but happy.  “This is my girlfriend Hermione,” said Ron, practically beaming with pride.

   Harry couldn’t help but grin back; Ron’s mood was infectious.  “Lovely to meet you,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek, before turning and placing his hand on Mac’s back affectionately.  “Ron, Hermione, this is my boyfriend Cormac.”

   Ron, mirroring Harry’s enthusiasm at meeting his best friend’s new partner, thrust his hand forward.  “Good to finally meet you bro,” he said over the din of the club.  “Harry’s talked a lot about you man.”

   Mac seemed unsure and just nodded back.  “Nice costumes,” he said to them instead, pulling Harry into a hug and nuzzling his neck.  Harry froze, immediately on edge, and sure enough Ron’s face flickered a brief moment of uncomfortableness.  _For_ fuck’s _sake,_ Harry thought, trying to wriggle away from Mac, but he’d obviously seen Ron’s look too and decided to play up to spite him. 

   “I get you,” he said to Ron, kissing Harry’s neck and digging his fingers into his waste so he couldn’t escape.  Ron’s costume was pretty self-explanatory as Dick Tracy, but Hermione’s wasn’t half as obvious.  Typical though, Mac just came out and asked.  “But who are you supposed to be?” he said.  “Most girls here seem to have gone for Wonder Woman.”

   Hermione however just endeared herself further to Harry by beaming back at Mac and smoothing down her skirts.  “I’m Mary Seacole,” she said.  “She was a Jamaican-British woman who revolutionised medicine in the Nineteenth Century.”

   “I thought that was Florence Nightingale?” Mac asked, and Harry batted his hand, begging him to stop.

   “They were both wonderful,” Hermione conceded. 

   “But they were both just nurses though, yeah?” Mac pushed on.

   “Just nurses?” Harry spluttered.

   “You know what I mean,” Mac laughed.  “I thought the theme of the evening was heroes?”

   Hermione smiled back though.  “Sometimes little black girls need to look a little further to find their heroes,” she said simply.  

   Ron beamed down at her in relief.  “Yep,” he said with a shaky laugh.  “She’s definitely the cool one in this relationship,” he joked, and Hermione grinned back at him, a twinkle in their eyes.  Harry was happy for them.  “So,” Ron continued, and Harry didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked over his and Mac’s closeness.  “You guys have been together a while now?”

   Harry defiantly pulled himself free and rested his hand on Mac’s shoulder, shooting him a look he hoped would convey that he wanted him to stop pawing him.  “Yeah, back over spring break, so, that’s about six months I guess?”

   “It’s seven,” Mac replied pointedly, rolling his eyes at Ron.  “He never remembers our anniversary.”

   The group laughed, but there was a tension Harry was increasingly unhappy with.  “Hey, do you guys have seats or anything?”  Ron pointed to where they and a few friends had a booth on the side of the room.  “Why don’t we get this round in and come meet you?”

   Ron seemed relieved to get away, and Harry’s heart sank.

   “What the _fuck_ was that?” he snarled as he pushed towards the bar, Mac right behind him. 

   “What?” Mac demanded.  “You saw the way he was looking at us, and all the _‘bro’_ and _‘dude’_ crap – he had a problem!”

   “Because you were making them uncomfortable!” Harry shot back.  “Ron’s my _best friend,_ we’ve known each other since we were kids and he doesn’t have a problem with me being gay, but it’s another thing to shove it in his face!”

   “He was doing _exactly_ the same thing with his girlfriend,” Mac hissed in his ear as they managed to ease closer to the bar through the throng.  “It’s not my fault your town is homophobic.”

   _“Babe,”_ he said, resorting a pet name, almost tearful.  He was feeling sick, he didn’t want a fight, and he certainly didn’t want to alienate Ron. “Please, please cut them a little slack.  I _swear_ Ron was the first of my friends I came out to and he’s been nothing but supportive.  That doesn’t mean he has to be okay with us getting handsy.  You know it makes _me_ uncomfortable, let alone anyone else.”

   Mac’s eyes flashed at the people around them as they reached the front of the bar queue and Harry pulled the folded up cash he’d hidden in his boot.  “Well _I’m_ uncomfortable when you let yourself be cowed by people like this.”

   Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat.  “I just don’t think we have to show off,” he said, trying to compromise.  “I’m not ashamed, I’m _not._   But can we just keep it down a little, whilst people get used to it?”

   Mac’s face was like thunder, and Harry slipped his hand surreptitiously into his amidst the crush of the crowd. 

   “Please,” he said softly, giving his check a little peck.  “Isn’t this enough?”

   Mac sighed and finally softened a little.  “Okay,” he said begrudgingly.  “I’m sorry, I’ll try and be little more patient, but you need to say the same thing to your friend.  I don’t like feeling like I’m being gawped at in a zoo, alright?”

   Harry nodded, relieved.  “Alright.” 

   They ordered as many drinks as they could carry, so they wouldn’t have to come back for another round for a while.  Plus, Harry was feeling guilty about everyone being on edge, so had bought shots to try and lighten the mood.  Two trays loaded between them, they managed to push back through the crowd where Ron and several other people they’d gone to school with had secured a booth. 

   Mac was true to his word and started afresh, introducing himself to the rest of the group and being courteous with Ron and Hermione.  As soon as Harry got a chance, he pulled Ron aside and whispered an apology in his ear.

   “Don’t be stupid,” Ron said, flushing red under his yellow trilby hat.  “I don’t care, I just, y’know, haven’t seen that before.  I’ll get used to it.”  Harry was so relieved to hear it he hugged his best friend again.  He didn’t worry about warning him to lighten up like Mac had insisted he do, he felt they’d said enough.  

   After a few more drinks the atmosphere relaxed considerably, and Harry asked Mac if he felt alright being left alone whilst Harry went and found the men’s.  “You don’t need to ask permission,” Mac joked.  “I’m not a delicate little flower, I’ll be fine.”

   Harry tried to smile back, but his response had just set him on edge again.  In case he wasn’t really fine, Harry decided to be quick as he could. 

   The club was even more packed now, and it took him a little while to reach the other side where the toilets were located.  He spotted a few more people he used to know from school, as well as some old soccer team mates, kids he’d worked a few jobs with and even the odd teacher.  Having said hello to most of them, he was absolutely bursting by the time he reached the men’s, and hurriedly relieved himself in the first free urinal. 

   Luckily, his Spiderman costume was slightly more accommodating that the real Peter Parker’s, and he didn’t have to get completely naked just to have a piss.  As he finished he leaned against the wall and sighed, before rearranging himself again and washing his hands.  Was Mac really okay, or was he gearing up for another fight?  They argued quite a bit, Harry knew, but didn’t all couples?  Mac just seemed to get riled up by so many things, Harry always seemed to be trying to calm him down again.  He’d just hoped meeting his friends wouldn’t be one of those occasions.

   Maybe it was too much, too many people, all dressed up.  He should have probably started on a smaller scale, he pondered.  Just a few of them at a bar or at home for a football game…

   He was so lost in thought he almost walked into someone as he turned and made to leave the bathroom.  “Sorry,” he said, before he even realised who it was. 

   “Harry?” said the person incredulously, and Harry couldn’t blame him.  The bathroom light was dim and they were both dressed as comic book characters.  But there was no mistaking that blond hair, even if it was tucked under dome sort of antlered crown.  “Wow, Jesus, it’s been a while, how have you been!”

   Harry broke into a smile, not sure why he was so relieved to see Draco Malfoy.  “Good, yeah good – you?”

   He’d not changed much in the last three years, Harry figured.  The same fine blond hair and sharp cheekbones he still held a little torch for, despite not having been in touch since graduation.  They’d never mentioned _that night_ but they’d always stayed friendly, and Harry was filled with an involuntary warmth as Draco smiled back. 

   “Yeah I’m great,” he said with a nod, moving by the wall as people manoeuvred past them to get to the cubicles.  “Just back for the fundraiser – nice costume by the way,” he added with a flick of an eyebrow.

   Harry had forgotten what he looked like, and glanced down, suddenly feeling rather exposed.  He shouldn’t do, what did he care what Draco though, he was here with Mac?  But a traitorous part of his brain was very keen to appear good for his former high school crush, even when he was intentionally looking ridiculous.  “Thanks,” he said, wishing he had a drink to occupy his hands.  “Er, you too.”

   It was true, Draco did look impressive, but Harry couldn’t say he knew what character wore green lycra with yellow cape, boots and utility belt as well as the distinctive horned crown.

   Draco laughed good-humouredly though.  “It’s okay, no one seems to be a proper comic book fan around here – I’m Loki,” he explained, then leaned in with a devilish look in his eye.  “More of an anti-hero I guess.  God of Mischief,” he elaborated further. 

   Harry gulped.  “Right,” he said.  “So – you’re enjoying college?”

   “Yeah, it’s fun,” Draco said with a shrug.  “Heading back to mid-terms next week, they’re such a bitch.”

   Harry laughed in agreement and they swapped a few campus stories, chatting with ease as people came and went.  He’d forgotten how easy it was to be around Draco when he was devoid of the friends that had intimidated Harry so much during school. 

   “Did you run into Greg yet?” Draco asked conspiratorially, and it took Harry a moment to realise he was talking about Greggory Goyle, one of his hulking mates that had spent most of high school pulverising people legitimately as part of the wrestling team.  Harry shook his head.  “He’s come as a slice of pizza, I mean, that’s kind of genius in of itself, but when I asked if he’d understood the theme of the night he looked at me as if I was nuts – like – _duh, why aren’t YOU here as pizza?”_

They were laughing so hard they got a questioning look from a guy dressed as John McClane, but Harry didn’t care, Draco was on a roll.

   “Oh!  Oh!” he cried in delight.  “Did you see Lavender Brown got fat?”

   “She had a kid,” Harry scolded with a slap to Draco’s arm, but that only encouraged him.

   “That’s no excuse,” he said scathingly.  “And did you hear Sprout got a divorce?  But I always suspected she was banging Vector after hours in the teacher’s lounge.”

   Harry’s sides were aching a little from such banal banter, he guessed it was the way Draco told it that was making it so funny.  He had such a wicked way with words, and Harry found the way his mouth moved when he talked and smiled positively mesmerising.  “When did you become such a bitch?” he asked, shaking his head.

   Draco pretended to look affronted.  “I speak nothing but the truth,” he said, as they grinned at each other.

   The moment stretched out a little too long, and Harry looked away with a cough.  Everything had been fine since their little tryst at school, and he didn’t want to ruin that now.

   “I saw Weasley earlier,” Draco said, his tone dropping into one of respect which Harry both noticed and appreciated.  “Looks like he’s got himself a girl?”

   Harry nodded fondly, already endeared to his best friend’s other half.  “She’s pre-law, they met a few months ago.  I think he’s pretty smitten.”

   Draco rubbed his thumb across his lower lip, something that Harry had completely forgotten he did but remembered suddenly just what kind of reaction it got from him.  He crossed his legs and hoped he wasn’t embarrassing himself too much. 

   “So,” Harry said as casually as he could, blaming the shots on why he was making such a bad decision.  “How about you, are you seeing anyone?”

   Draco raised his eyebrows.  “Me?”

   “Yeah,” said Harry with a shrug.  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

   It hadn’t escaped Harry’s notice; the occasional touch of the elbow, or how Draco leaned in a little too close sometimes to reply over the music throbbing from the other room.  It all made him wonder if he’d ever decided which he’d preferred after their encounter at Pansy Parkinson’s house: girls…or boys?

   Draco licked his lips and chuckled, like he had a private joke.  “No, no girlfriend,” he said.  “I’m kinda busy anyway with school, doesn’t leave much time for anything serious I find.”

   “Nah, I guess not,” Harry agreed non-committedly. 

   “Serious is boring though,” Draco said lightly.  “I seem to remember you were one who could be persuaded to have a bit of fun?”

   Harry’s mouth ran dry.  Was he referring to… _that night?_   Surely not.  “I’ve been known to dabble,” he said, fully aware how flirtatious that came across.  What was he doing?  He should stop this, get out now. 

   “Hmm,” said Draco as the last couple of people around them left to go back into the heart of the club.  He glanced from side to side, and something plummeted through Harry’s insides. 

   “What are you doing?” he whispered, even though, for that moment, it was just them in the men’s toilets.

   “Being mischievous,” Draco said, grabbing Harry’s hand and yanking him into one of the empty stalls and locking the door.

   “Wha-” Harry stuttered, before Draco covered his mouth with his own.  “Mph!” he said, his brain screaming this was so completely wrong!  He was here with _Mac!_ But his body wasn’t listening as they melded together, the slippery lycra allowing them to easily feel each other’s hard muscles as their hands explored each other’s bodies, lips and tongues crashing together in a desperate bid to get as close as possible. 

   Very quickly, it wasn’t just their bodies that were hard to the touch.  “Fuck, Potter,” Draco whispered as he cupped between his legs, rubbing his throbbing erection just like he had back in Pansy Parkinson’s back yard.  Harry gasped, and figured his earlier question had at least been answered in part.  Whether or not he was still into girls, Draco definitely had a thing for dudes too.

   “Draco,” Harry breathed, grabbing him back, unfazed by the crash of the outer door and the numerous chattering voices that drifted in as several guys joked around whilst they took a leak.  If anything, with more noise on top of the music from the club it made it easier to intensify their embrace, which is probably why Draco yanked off his crown, placed it on the closed toilet seat, and dropped to his knees.

   “What are you-” Harry hissed, half laughing, half horrified as Draco wasted no time yanking the lower half of his Spiderman suit out of the way and freeing his straining cock. 

   “Shut up and enjoy yourself,” Draco whispered with a grin, before starting to suck on Harry’s tip and massage his balls.

   Harry couldn’t breathe properly, he was finding it desperately hard not to cry out.  So he stuffed the back of one hand into his mouth and bit down, sliding the fingers on the other through Draco’s fine blond hair.  The moans rumbled at the back of his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut as Draco swallowed him deeper.  This was definitely not the first blow job he’d given, and Harry wasn’t sure why but that turned him on even more.  Draco was gay, or at least bi, and he was absolutely loving drinking down Harry’s engorged dick. 

   “Harry?”

   He jumped so hard Draco was thrown off enough to bounce his head on the cubicle wall behind him.  Horror flooded Harry’s system as the realisation of what he’d just been doing hit him viciously, and tears sprung in his eyes as he panicked.  “Mac?” he stuttered back, trying to force his cock back into his pants, but the red and blue lycra wasn’t doing a great job of hiding his still half hard and quite damp erection. 

   “Who’s Mac?” Draco asked, unimpressed as he got to his feet. 

   There was a nasty pause.

   “Harry’s _boyfriend,”_ came the reply from the other side of the door. 

   Draco’s face fell, a mixture of hurt, anger and disappointment.  “Boyfriend, huh?” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and snatching his crown from the perch where he’d left it.  He shook his head, ignoring Harry’s protests as he slammed the lock across and yanked the door open to see Cormac waiting on the other side. 

   Shaking his head again, Draco stalked past, pausing only to look Mac in the eye.  “Sorry,” he said, shooting a scowl at Harry, before walking back out into the club once more.

   Harry and Mac turned to look at one another, before Mac turned on his heel and stormed out too.  “Wait!” Harry shouted, dashing after him, but only managing to catch up and grab his arm once they were back out on the dance floor.  “Mac I’m so sorry!”

   “How _could_ you!” Mac yelled, throwing Harry’s hand off and squaring up to him.  “All that talk about how much you hate PDA, how I have to be nice to your friends and come to this stupid town in the first place, and you’re there getting your dick sucked by the first guy that comes along!”

   “I know,” Harry cried miserably.  “I don’t know what happened, I’m sorry, I can explain!”

   “How,” Mac demanded, shoving him.  “Did he trip and fall?”

   Harry shook his head, reaching out again, but Mac brushed him off.  They were earning a fair bit of attention.   “He’s an old friend, he sort of came out to me at school, and we were talking about it and he kissed me and I got caught up in the moment _I’m so sorry!_   It won’t happen again I swear, it didn’t mean anything!”

   Mac looked heartbroken, and Harry couldn’t remember feeling more wretched in his whole life.  “He was going down on you,” he said, throwing his hands around.  “In a fucking public toilet – do you have _any_ self-respect!”

   “Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem here?”  Harry turned, utterly mortified to see not only had a large bouncer come over, but also _Ron and Hermione_ had spotted the disturbance and were making their way over, looking concerned. 

   “The problem is my boyfriend’s a fucking _slut!”_ Mac shouted, pushing Harry again who only stumbled backwards, too numb with shock to protest. 

   “Oi!” Ron jumped in, pushing between them both.  “Leave him alone!”

   “Stay out of this!” Mac snarled at him. 

   But the bouncer wasn’t having any of it, and grabbed both Mac and Harry by their arms.  “Okay you two,” he said gruffly, dragging them towards the exit.  “Out, you can have your little tiff elsewhere.” 

   Harry couldn’t look anywhere but the floor as he let himself be manhandled past people he surely knew, out the door where Buffy the Vampire Slayer was still stationed, and into the cool October air.  He and Mac stumbled as they were released, with Ron and Hermione coming to a halt just behind.

   “You need a stamp if you want to come back in?” Buffy called to them, but Hermione only glanced at her, and Ron’s focus remained entirely on Harry. 

   “What the Hell’s going on?” he demanded as Mac began marching off down the street hugging himself, shoulders shaking which looked alarmingly like he might be crying.

   “I’ve been a fucking idiot,” Harry all but sobbed, scrubbing his hands through his unruly black hair.  “I’m sorry man, I gotta go, I’ll talk to you later.”

   He didn’t wait for an answer, he just ran off after his poor boyfriend, forcing him to stop by seizing him into a tight hug.  “I’m so sorry, I’m _so sorry._   It was a stupid mistake, please forgive me, _please.”_

   Mac sniffed, not returning the embrace.  “I don’t know if I can Harry,” he spat.  “I can’t get the idea out of my head!  He was on his knees for you!”

   Harry was really crying now, his face buried into Mac’s neck as he gripped onto him for dear life.  “He’s not you, he’s no one, I’m sorry, please, I love you, I’m sorry.”

   Mac pulled away and carried on walking the way back to Harry’s house, still hugging himself, still shaking.

   Harry wasn’t sure if they could ever come back from this. 

 

**2006**

 

   Harry sipped his store bought wine from a plastic cup and watched on amused as his colleagues tried another round of beer pong at the desk across from him.  There was lots of heckling and splashing of alcohol, and not much actual skill involved, but they seemed to be having a good time of it none the less.

   It wasn’t the most ruckus of parties, but Harry was having a nice time regardless.  The office had given them spending money to get a pretty decent amount of booze and chip’n’dip in, and one of the girls from accounts had hooked up her iPod to play a wide selection of tunes that so far was keeping everyone happy. 

   Harry hadn’t had any Halloween plans until a few of the guys had suggested something official from work, and he was grateful.  It was unusual his friends hadn’t sorted a get together, and he’d been feeling a bit down at the idea he was finally getting old.  Surely twenty six wasn’t too grown up for Halloween, was it?

   He decided not to dwell on it and topped up his slightly warm white wine before joining the girls dancing to Pussycat Dolls.  He felt like he’d been cheating just picking up a standard cop costume from the store earlier in the day, and had a belated panic that he was about to re-enact his fateful YMCA year from high school, but it turned out the girls thought he was even more adorably gay like that, and kept pulling him over to chat and dance.  It wasn’t always the most riveting of conversations – he hadn’t had the heart yet to admit he didn’t actually watch _One Tree Hill_ – but he was thankful not to be hanging out by himself at least. 

   There was a commotion by the entrance to their floor as a couple dozen more people piled in, none of which Harry recognised.  “Who’s that?” he asked Natalie, one of the girls in his team.

   “Oh,” she said, her face lighting up.  “We invited the office form a couple of towns away, y’know, the one with the legal and logistics teams?  I think the idea is to warm up here then get some cabs to one of the decent bars.”

   Harry nodded, thinking that sounded fun-

   Until his heart just about stopped.

   “Oh, _fuck!”_ he cried, spinning around in horror, trying to decide what to do before he ran out of time.

   Natalie looked both confused and amused.  “What?” she said, grinning.  Harry could hear the people coming further inside, chatting with mutual friends and adding appreciated packs of beer to their already diminishing supply. 

   “There’s a guy here,” said Harry stiffly, looking for ways to escape, but he was limited. 

   “An ex?” Natalie suggest.

   Harry shook his head.  “No, but we hooked up a couple of times, and the last time was _bad._   He hates me.”

   Natalie, good friend that she was, took a quick look around too.  “Which one?” she asked. 

   Harry sighed.  “He’s the blond in white with the yellow jacket and a fake moustache.”  He found it pretty cruel that not only was Draco Malfoy here, at his work, but he was also dressed as his childhood hero, Freddie Mercury.  What were the chances?

   “He’s by the booze,” Nat whispered.  “He hasn’t spotted you yet, go under the desk and slip to the copy room.  I can text you when he’s distracted – if you want we can sneak off to the bar ahead of everyone else?”

   Harry sighed.  He really didn’t want to be chased out of his own party, but at the same time he absolutely did not want to relive the crushing embarrassment of that fundraiser.  “You’re an angel,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.  “See you in a minute.”

   He dropped to all fours and made it under a few rows of desks before scuttling down the aisle to the stock room where they kept the paper and copy machine, feeling faintly ridiculous, but not enough to change his mind and go back.

   Crap.  So, Draco worked for the same company as him – how had he missed that?  He supposed a lot of people had come back home or thereabouts after college, but he’d not heard any mention from his friends he saw regularly that his old crush had done the same.  He sighed and rubbed under his glasses wishing he’d worn his contacts, or bothered to try and do his hair, or not worn such a cheesy getup. 

   Urgh, who was he kidding, he didn’t want to see Draco, he wanted to escape.  He may still have the same old flutterings of feelings at the sight of him, but Draco had looked at him with such disgust as they’d parted ways last time, there was no way Harry wanted to experience that again. 

   His phone beeped in his pocket, and he fished it out to see Nat telling him the coast was clear and to meet her by the front desk.  He blew a sigh of relief – in ten minutes he’d be able to forget any of this had happened and drown his sorrows with vodka. 

   He peeked out back into the office to see that Draco was indeed nowhere in sight, and headed straight for the exit, thankful he didn’t need to swing by his desk to pick anything up.  This year he’d opted for a costume with pockets, so he already had his keys and wallet on him. 

   Natalie waved to him as he approached, slinging her coat over her dead cheerleader outfit.  “You ready?”

   “You’re not leaving already are you McDonald?” said one of the guys from the design department that Harry strongly suspected was highly ambitious of getting into Natalie’s pants.  Poor fool.

   She was unperturbed though.  “We’re heading over first to secure the booking, make sure we don’t lose our tables.”  Being part of the marketing team, that was a pretty plausible lie, and Harry winked at Nat when the guy couldn’t see.

   Her face fell though, eyes looking over his shoulder, and he hardly had time to panic before the voice spoke. 

   “Harry?”

   He screwed up his face in disappointment as Nat mouthed _‘I’m sorry’_ at him, but he shook his head.  She’d done her best. 

   As if going to the gallows, he turned and did his best attempt at astonishment.  “Draco!” he said.  “What on Earth are you doing here?”  His tone was light but he was struggling to hide the shame that was rising up so easily from the memory of their previous sordid encounter. 

   “I work here – well not _here,_ I work for this company.”  He looked good despite the silly facial hair, having filled out a little more since the last time they’d seen each other.  “Are you – is this your office?”

   Harry nodded.  So far, there were no sneers or appalled faces.  He actually seemed genuinely happy to see Harry.

   The traitorous butterflies were back in Harry’s stomach faster than he could blink.  _He’s just being nice,_ he told himself scornfully.  “Yes,” he said.  “I’ve been here a couple of years, I had no idea you’d moved back as well?”

   Draco shook his head.  “Only a couple of months ago.  My mum got ill and I thought it would be better to be nearer home.”

   “Oh I’m so sorry to hear that,” Harry exclaimed genuinely.  “Is she okay?”

   Draco smiled but it was a little tight, and Harry’s heart ached for him.  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he said with a deep assuring breath.  “She’s tough and they caught it early, so there’s every hope.  How’s your family?”

   Before he could answer, Harry felt a hand placed on his shoulder.  He glanced down to see Natalie smiling at him, along with another emotion dancing in her eyes he couldn’t quite read.  “I’ll catch you later,” she said.  Harry made to protest, but she turned to Draco too quickly.  “Nice to meet you,” she said, then slipped out the door with a couple of her other friends, apparently to actually secure their booking at the bar. 

   Harry turned back to Draco, a bit at a loss.  Draco though wasn’t easily thrown.  “Oh, you haven’t got a drink, come on, let’s fix that.”

   They filled two flimsy cups full of white wine from the stash in the buckets of ice, and Draco steered them over to two empty wheelie chairs.  “So your mum and dad are okay?” he said, sipping his from his cup, then realised with a jolt he was sporting a moustache that absorbed half of his drink.  “Urgh,” he laughed.  “That’s going to get old very quickly,” he lamented, wiping the booze from his lip. 

   Harry smiled.  He wouldn’t have expected this at all.  “Yeah, they’re good, great actually.  My dad’s been meeting up with his school friends a lot, golfing and stuff, embracing their middle age.  My mum likes to complain but I think she’s thrilled to get some time to herself.”

   Draco smiled, his eyes sparkling, and took another sip, this time more carefully so his fake moustache didn’t get soaked.  Harry decided to follow suit, accepting that Draco was apparently not going to humiliate him for his past mistake. 

   “What about Weasley, I heard he’s around and about too?” 

   Harry was impressed Draco had even thought to ask, and he sat up a little straighter.  “Yeah, he and Hermione bought a place near his family, he’s got a bunch of nieces and nephews he wanted to be around to see grow up.  I think,” he said, voicing his suspicions for the first time to anyone out loud.  Somehow it felt safe telling Draco after all this time apart.  “I think he might be gearing up to pop the question.”

   Draco slapped his knee, the contact sending electricity though Harry’s body.  “That’s awesome,” he said sincerely.  “Congratulations to them both if so – you’d be best man I guess?”

   Harry shrugged, but he couldn’t help the pleased grin that crept onto his face.  “Maybe,” he said.

   There was a pause as Draco leaned forward and fiddled with the lip of his cup.  “And you?” he said with a notable forced cheerfulness.  “You’re still with what’s-his-face?”

   Harry couldn’t help but bark a laugh that made a couple of people look over, even with the music playing.  “Mac?  Fuck no, thank God,” he said.  “That was pretty toxic that one, funny how sometimes you can’t see a thing until you’re out of it.”

   The truth was he’d kept up with Mac for a whole three years, trying to make it work.  But eventually Harry had to admit to himself that no matter what he did, he just wasn’t happy.  That was when he’d packed up his life and come back home, to this very office. 

   He gave a fleeting thought to how many decisions, little and large, had led to him sitting there once more with Draco Malfoy.  It was kinda mind blowing once you looked at it like that.

   “I’m sorry,” Draco said kindly, and Harry couldn’t ignore the way his heart beat a little faster.

   “Oh don’t be,” he said with a wave of his hand.  “It was for the best, trust me.”  He thought maybe Draco wasn’t just referring to his break up, that maybe he was worrying what part his actions that night had played, but Harry didn’t want to rehash that.  “No I’m, uh, single,” he said with a nod, realising how obvious it sounded, but he wanted to be clear after their last mishap.  “Can’t seem to find one that’ll stick.”

   “Tell me about it,” Draco agreed, leaning back and kicking his feet up onto a cardboard box by the desk.  “Where are they hiding all the cute guys with good jobs and senses of humour?”

   Harry laughed and licked his lips, something sparking in his chest he hadn’t felt in quite some time.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “But they’re doing a real good job of it so far.”  

   “Hey Harry!” one of the guys shouted across the room.  “You want in on this taxi?”

   He looked around.  Another group of people were heading out, but there was still plenty of his colleagues left so he shook his head.  “I’m alright for now thanks,” he said, raising his plastic cup in a toast.  He turned back to Draco, but then felt anxious.  “Unless you wanted-” he began, but Draco stopped him by gently taking the cup from his hand, their fingers brushing together.

  “Nah, I’m good,” he said, smiling warmly.  “I’ll get us a top up.” 

   By their third top up, half of the people had trickled away to the next party, and Draco had abandoned his fake moustache, rubbing his face in relief after getting the glue off his lip.  By the fifth they relocated to the break area with the couches, legs propped up on the coffee table littered with year-old industry publications.

   “Do you wonder,” Harry asked, as the few people that were left slow-danced to James Blunt under the atmospherically dimmed lights.  “How things could have turned out differently?”

   “What do you mean?” Draco asked, blowing on the tea Harry had just made them to take a break from the cheap wine.  They were side by side on the same sofa now, watching the couples as they swayed from side to side. 

   Harry shrugged, not sure himself what he’d really meant.  “Like, if you’d made other choices, what your life could be like?”

   Draco thought on that, and Harry realised they’d sunk into the cushions a little, so their shoulders were resting comfortably side by side.  “No,” he said affirmatively after a while.  “I think what’s meant to happen happens, and if something doesn’t happen when it should, it’ll find a way down the line.”

   “Like fate?” 

   Draco shook his head.  “No,” he said thoughtfully.  “That makes it sound like we don’t have a choice.  I just think…the universe has a way of finding the right path for you, like…water, trickling through cracks.  There might be hundreds of ways it could go, but eventually, it’ll find its destination.”

   Harry was gazing at him, and once he finished talking he blushed.  “That’s pretty profound,” Harry said with a laugh to lighten the suddenly serious mood.

   Draco shook his head.  “It’s all this 99c wine,” he joked.  “It’s rotted my brain.”

   But Harry found that although they had been drinking for a while, he was only pleasantly drunk, relaxed.  He knew exactly what he was doing.  “I think that’s a nice idea,” he said.  “Sometimes it’s easy to beat yourself up over things you’ve done.”

   “Oh,” scoffed Draco.  “I’m not saying you should just let regrets fill you up.”  He shook his head ardently.  “I mean, we’re allowed to mess up, but then if we want the universe to help us we have to help it back and do something.  It only works if you want to fix it, if you _want_ to find the right path.”

   “Hi Harry,” said one of the last girls sleepily from by their sofa.  He’d not noticed the music had been shut off and everyone else had gone. 

   “Blimey,” he said with a start, looking at his watch.  It was almost 2am.  “You alright?”

   She and the guy with her nodded.  “We’re just heading out, are you going to stay?”

   Harry turned and looked at Draco, who was lounged against the sofa arm, content sipping at his mug of tea.  He smiled at Harry, and something coiled tighter around his chest.

   “I think we’re okay for now,” he said to the girl.  “I’ve got keys.”

   She nodded and her and the last couple of people bid them goodnight, leaving the two men alone in the quiet, dimly lit office.  

   Harry looked down at his mug, not uncomfortable, but contemplating.  “You think we need to work hard to make sure our regrets don’t get the better of us?” he said.

   He felt the couch shift beside him, and Draco was once again sat next to him, their knees touching.  “Yes,” he said, placing his tea down and lacing his fingers together between his legs.  “If life was easy it would be boring.”

   Harry smiled, setting his own mug down.  “Who wants boring?” he said. 

   He moved carefully, not looking up, just easing his hand over tentatively, before slipping his fingertips along the soft material of Draco’s white trousers, skimming the bottom of his thigh and resting on his knee.

   He held his breath.

   He didn’t have to wait long though, as Draco moved his own hand, equally carefully, glancing his fingers across the back of Harry’s knuckles.  Harry flipped his palm up, and Draco’s hand naturally slid into his, closing firmly.

   Harry just watched for a few moments as their thumbs rubbed little circles back and forth against each other’s skin.  He felt Draco shift though, so he looked up into his silvery eyes, wide and naked.  “I don’t want boring,” Draco whispered, like he was a little afraid to get the words out. 

   “Good,” said Harry.

   And that was how, several hours later, the janitor found them, numerous used mugs scattered on the table in front of them, voices hoarse, hands still locked, and a new born sense of hope and purpose lifting their hearts as the morning sun rose.

 

**2015**

 

   “Scorpius, stop fidgeting,” Harry told his son as he concentrated on snipping around the eye holes he’d drawn on one of their old white sheets. 

   “Is it almost ready Daddy?” he chirped excitedly, bouncing up and down, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

   “Yes,” he conceded.  “But you won’t be able to go at all if we end up in the ER with a popped eyeball.”

   _“Ewww!”_ Scorp cried from under the sheet, but Harry knew he loved a bit of a gory story, so carried on as he tackled the second eye.

   “Oh yeah,” he said dramatically.  “Blood everywhere, you’ll be on the news as the little boy with only one eye!”

   _“Da-deee,”_ he bemoaned, still wriggling, but Harry had managed to finish up a reasonably round and equal set of holes, so he gave his son a light tap on the butt and dropped the scissors on the sideboard.  “Okay champ, all done, let’s go show Daddy.”

   “Daddy Daddy!” Scorpius squealed, tearing into the kitchen where Draco was stirring dinner and sipping on a glass of red wine.  “BOO!”

   Draco pretended to be startled and let his glass clatter to the counter top.  “My goodness,” he said to their six-year-old, clutching his chest.  “You scared the life outta me – I almost became a ghost too!”

   Scorpius giggled and let himself be picked up by Draco, who kissed his head.  “You ready to go trick-or-treating?”  Scorp nodded vigorously.  “Now you remember,” Draco carried on, winked fondly at Harry.  “You be nice to the other kids and share okay?  That way everyone gets some candy.”

   “Yes Daddy,” Scorpius said, and he leaned over and kissed him through the sheet on the cheek.  Harry couldn’t help but come in and give his little family a hug too, he loved seeing his two blonds together, even if one of them was currently visiting from beyond the grave.

   The doorbell rang, and Draco turned in shock to Scorpius.  “Who could that be?” he asked in mock confusion, but Scorp was too sharp for that. 

   “Trick-or-treat!” he cried, wiggling lose and running for the door.  “Trick-or-treat!  Trick-or-treat!”

   Harry took Draco’s hand as they walked together down the hall to open the door outside.  They were greeted by their good friend Hermione and a little red-headed vampire who all but pounced on them with her bucket shaped like a skeleton head.  “Trick-or-treat!” she cried around fake fangs. 

   “Wow,” said Harry, raising his eyebrow.  “Rose, are you one scary vampire.”

   She looked up at him, wide-eyed.  “Rosie,” said Hermione, resting her hand on her daughter’s back.  “These are your uncles Harry and Draco, you remember me saying we were going to go out with their little boy Scorpius?”

   The two children looked warily at one another.  “What are you supposed to be?” Rose asked, taking her teeth out and stepping closer to Scorp.

   “I’m a ghost,” he mumbled in a display of uncharacteristic shyness. 

   Rose frowned, slotting her teeth back in and swooshing her cape back.

   Then thumped Scorpius square on the shoulder.

   “Rose!” Hermione cried out in horror as Scorp yelped and grabbed his arm in shock.

   “He’s not a real ghost!” Rose declared defiantly.  “Real ghosts aren’t solid!”  Harry couldn’t help but laugh as he went to comfort his son, but Scorpius had already bounced back. 

   “Well you’re not a real vampire!” he shot back.  “Those aren’t your teeth!”  

   “Are too!”

   “Are not!”

   Before any parent could do anything, the two kids were tearing into the front yard, chasing each other and throwing insults, Hermione striding out to split them up and take charge.

   Harry though, looked at Draco, and Draco at Harry.  “Does this seem a little familiar to you?” Harry asked, and Draco shook his head.

   “I think we might be in trouble,”  he said back.

 

 

The End

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please review! To discover more of my writing, visit www.helenjuliet.com


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